


Needed Distractions

by posbeel



Category: South Park
Genre: Healing, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, Trauma, mostly comfort
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-11
Updated: 2020-06-11
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:27:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,670
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24668353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/posbeel/pseuds/posbeel
Summary: Stan soothes Kyle after he has a particularly hard day dealing with his Cartman-related trauma.
Relationships: Kyle Broflovski/Stan Marsh
Comments: 15
Kudos: 116





	Needed Distractions

When school gets out for the day, Kyle rushes down the halls, intent on freeing himself of the place as fast as possible. Just stepping outside of the building helps the ever-present constriction of his chest loosen. Today was an especially bad day, and Kyle wants nothing more than to lock himself in his room and play games until his fingers are aching.

He would usually be walking home with Stan, but he is staying after today to help build props for the upcoming school play. They’re doing _Shrek the Musical_ , which the student body had rallied hard for, much to the disdain of the theater teacher who wanted to stick to classics. She had eventually given in, but it proved to bite the students in the ass when they realized being the lead in a musical might not be worth having to be seen as Shrek by all their peers. They had trouble finding someone to play Shrek, no one willing to risk getting teased over it for the rest of high school. Clyde ended up being forced to play Shrek since the theater teacher is his aunt.

Stan insisted on cancelling and walking home with Kyle instead, but he refused to let Stan do that. He knows Stan really enjoys his time woodworking. He’d hate to deprive him of that.

Without company on his walk home, his brain swarms with negative thoughts.

School had gotten a lot harder for Kyle as the years passed by. Friend groups changed, relationship dynamics changed, teachers changed, faculty changed. More importantly, Kyle’s patience wore on, the past weighed on him more heavily, and he cracked down on the amount of nonsense he would allow in his life. He endured a lifetime’s worth of bullshit as a child and would take no more.

By 6th grade, he wouldn’t sit at the same table as Cartman at lunch. By 8th grade, he could barely talk to the people who still willingly associated with him. The process of trying to break himself off of Cartman was miserable, but with a lot of patience, breakdowns, and gentle touches from Stan, he did it. Cartman was delighted when he first realized Kyle had chosen to no longer entertain the boy. He amped up his cruelty whenever he managed to corner Kyle in the school halls or around town. After months of self-restraint by Kyle, Cartman did give up, hopefully realizing he couldn’t break the man. Or maybe hoping his existence would be enough to torture him. He wasn’t wrong, exactly.

Everyone hates Eric, yet people continue to tolerate him. Continue to give him companionship. Continue to enable him. They’re in the 11th grade now, and he has still seen little consequences for his actions.

Most of the girls of South Park don’t entertain Cartman anymore, not that they ever really have. Wendy and Bebe are especially critical of him and Kyle finds himself spending a lot of time with them. Like Kyle, they have strong morals they stand up for and have similarly been victims of Cartman’s bigotry.

Stan, of course, never gives Cartman the time of day. After the hours Kyle has spent breaking down in front of Stan over what Eric has done to him, after his periods of despondence because Cartman’s mere existence around him was too much, Stan could never. He’s a dependable friend who helps keep Kyle grounded.

Despite the support he has, every-day life wears on him. Going to school, hangouts with other classmates, looking at social media. It all hurts. It fills him with reminders that his trauma means nothing to most people.

When he gets home from school, he heads straight to his room and flops onto his bed. He takes a few minutes to absorb the sensory-less bliss of his dark, quiet room. He’s not exactly sad enough to cry. Mostly he just feels numb, and maybe empty? Small? As he tries to find the exact words to describe how he’s feeling, he falls asleep.

A loud sneeze abruptly wakes him from his nap, and he sits up trying to find the source of the noise. He’s immediately met with Stan’s hand on his arm gently pushing him back down. Stan is sitting at the edge of his bed.

“Hey, it’s just me,” he whispers. “Sorry.”

There’s virtually no light filtering in through the cracks of his blinds, the sun almost set. No lights are on in his room, and he wonders how long Stan has been sitting here in the dark.

“Hi,” Kyle says with a yawn. “How did the prop-making go?”

“It was fine. Clyde argued with Red, begging her to not make him wear any prosthetics on his face. As if he can be Shrek without any. Oh! Scott Malkinson smashed his thumb with a hammer. That was pretty funny. Though, since he had to go home I had even more work to do myself.”

Kyle lets Stan ramble about his day, reveling in Stan’s comforting presence and his own sleep-laced state. It’s a much needed calm after having a bad day like today, though he knows it won’t last forever.

“Maybe I’ll come help you guys paint some props next time,” Kyle replies when Stan finishes.

“Aw, you don’t have to. It’s not so great, anyway. Theater kids have weird drama and they’re obnoxiously picky about the props being just right. Like, okay, if you want it done so specifically do it yourself!”

“Okay, yeah, I didn’t consider how neurotic they all are.”

“They’re seriously never happy with anything we make for them no matter how closely we follow their wishes,” Stan says, falling back onto Kyle’s chest with mock exasperation.

“You’re too good, dude. You could be making some money building some chairs or whatever but instead you’re helping the ungrateful theater department,” he remarks, patting Stan’s head.

“True,” Stan snorts. “It’s at least nice chatting with Butters. His paintings are gorgeous, you’ll have to check out what he’s done to the props sometime.”

“Yeah, I can at least stop by real quick one day after school,” Kyle says, smiling down at Stan.

They both cringe when a distant but loud bass begins to resonate through the air. Kyle puts his hands on his face and groans.

“Dude, we’ll figure something out for tonight,” Stan sits back up and consoles Kyle with a small smile. Cartman is having a party tonight and it was all anyone talked about all day at school. Even if people weren’t explicitly talking about him, just hearing people constantly repeat Cartman’s name all day was overwhelming. Even at home he can hardly escape the Cartman talk because the party is all people are posting about on social media. Having Cartman blocked means nothing when all of his friends are posting selfies of themselves at the party, oftentimes with Cartman squirming his way into the picture because he loves the attention.

Stan puts a hand on Kyle’s shoulder as he mopes. His hand is a big, warm anchor.

“What do you want to do?” Stan asks, rubbing a loose thread from Kyle’s sleeve between his fingers. “We could watch a movie, play some video games, go pet as many stray cats as we can find, steal some alcohol from my parents,” Stan singsongs the end of every suggestion.

Kyle huffs. “Whatever can best suck his poison out of my brain.”

“Hm,” Stan says, thinking. “It might do you some good to get out of the neighborhood. It has, like, extra bad vibes tonight or whatever.”

Kyle can’t help but crack a smile at his dumb remark. “Yeah, dude. Take me somewhere else.”

In a way, it’s true the ‘vibes’ will be bad. They can already hear the loud boom of music drifting from Cartman’s house. Soon, they’ll be able to hear the laughter and screeches of drunk classmates passing by on the sidewalk. These noises make it hard to forget what his brain is trying to escape.

The boys say goodbye to Kyle’s parents who tell them to keep safe and not stay out too late. They probably will be out late, but he can handle the mild scolding he’ll get.

The sun has just gone below the horizon and so the sky is a deep navy blue, only a few clouds floating about. It’s the beginning of September and, luckily, not too cold out. Cold enough to need their jackets, but nice enough that spending time outside won’t numb their entire bodies.

Once they’re in the car, Kyle closes his eyes and inhales through his nose. He takes in all the familiar, comforting senses of Stan’s car. The slight creak of the driver’s side door as Stan pulls it shut. The feel of the soft, cheap fabric of the seats. The lingering minty smell of which he is never quite sure what the source is. The gentle jingling of Stan’s keys and light engine sputtering as his car starts up. He already feels miles better than he did just a few minutes ago.

“Wanna grab some food?” Stan asks, swiveling his head towards Kyle.

Kyle can’t help but stare at Stan for a moment before replying. The only light illuminating Stan is the dull orange light at the front of the car. It makes him look so soft. Kyle wishes he could take a picture, but even if it weren’t too weird to do, his phone camera could never pick up the light properly.

“I could eat,” he states in a low, almost whispering voice. Stan nods his head and starts to drive.

“Dude, what even is the point of this,” Kyle asks, cracking a smile at Stan and fiddling with the pine-scented, tree-shaped air freshener hanging off the mirror. “We’re, like, surrounded by real pine trees.” The air freshener has been in Stan’s car for two years, so it doesn’t much matter now anyway, but he feels like teasing Stan. The familiar banter helps keep him levelheaded.

“Hey!” Stan gasps in mock offense, attempting to lightly swat Kyle’s hands away from it. “That is an important aesthetic addition to my car, and I will not have you insulting it. Or tearing it down! Put your hands down!”

“I wasn’t going to take it down. I was treating it like the gentle Stan-artifact that it is,” Kyle defends himself. “But don’t pretend like you care about the ‘aesthetics’ of your car.”

Kyle looks around at the trash strewn across the back and thinks about the many parts of the outside where paint is chipping. Stan turns his head to playfully glare at him.

“I’m buying you a new one,” Kyle exclaims. He won’t. He doesn’t want to conceal the smells he has come to know in this car.

“Whatever. I’d just slip it into my dad’s car or something. He’s the one who needs it,” Stan retorts.

After a few more minutes of idle chatter, they pull into the parking lot of a diner on the outskirts of town. Nights like these are best for eating out since all of the people they know are out at a party instead of passing time at local spots. No risk of seeing Cartman who frequents all the restaurants around.

They slide across from one another at a red faux-leather booth and order cheesy fries and milkshakes when the server comes. Probably not the best meal when Kyle is feeling so anxious, but he wants comfort food.

“I don’t get it,” Kyle murmurs once the server leaves.

“Get what?” Stan asks as he flicks a sugar packet over towards Kyle who flicks it back over. They slide it back and forth across the table.

“I don’t know. Why do they tolerate him?” Kyle asks, not being able to help but pout a little now. Sadly, the harsher light of the diner has slightly dampened the gentle mood he felt in the car. He can’t help but bring _him_ up. But he does it knowing Stan will say the right things, even if he stumbles over his words or only says a little.

“Ah,” Stan responds, clearly trying to formulate the right words to say to Kyle. It makes his heart soar knowing he cares enough to try to be so delicate. “It’s beyond me. I guess cause we’ve all grown up with him and most people are just desensitized to his crap? I dunno. They’ll get annoyed at him and call him an asshole but that’s kind of it now. They’re all dumb.”

They’ve had a conversation like this a million times before, but Kyle never stops needing it. Maybe one day he won’t.

“Yeah,” Kyle responds, his voice small.

Stan pauses his sugar-packet flicking and makes eye contact with him. “We’ll be out soon.”

Kyle sighs. “Soon.”

It’s the beginning of junior year. They’ll be graduating “soon” depending on who you ask. To some, graduation couldn’t be approaching any slower. It’s easy to feel confined in South Park. To him, the days are zipping by. Not that that’s all it’s cut out to be. On the positive, he gets to escape Cartman. Hopefully permanently. On the negative, he may have to physically depart from Stan. Not to mention Wendy and Bebe. The dread of leaving his friends makes time pass fast.

“Until then, we’ll get through this together,” Stan says with a single nod of his head. His voice is warm and reassuring. Kyle can’t help but give him a goofy grin back.

They get served their cheesy fries and milkshakes: chocolate for Stan and strawberry for Kyle. A heaping plate of crinkle cut fries drenched in orange, gooey cheese now separates the boys. Stan immediately goes for a bunch of cheesy fries with a fork and gets a glob of cheese on the corner of his lips as he stuffs his mouth.

Kyle’s mad Stan looks so good even under the harsh fluorescent lights of the diner _and_ with orange goo on his face. Even in the soft light of the car Kyle looked like a zombie; he can’t imagine how horrible he looks now.

“We can hang whenever someone has a boring party or there’s some dumb school event,” Stan says, once again attempting to console Kyle.

Kyle’s stomach flips at this big promise. So far, it’s been true, but hearing it as a direct promise from Stan is something else. It’s inconceivable how someone could care about him so much.

“I dunno, dude. I don’t want to deprive you of these classic high school experiences or whatever,” he says with a sad smile, watching as Stan realizes there is food on his mouth and wipes it off.

“You’re part of the ‘classic’ high school experience, Kyle! Where would I be without us looking down at the town while eating a whole pack of Oreos, or us drunkenly watching bad cooking youtubers on school nights,” Stan contests, his voice undeniably tinged with affection.

Sometimes they will take Stan’s crappy car up the winding, poorly maintained mountain roads until they hit this one overlook hidden away in the rarely traversed roads. They have yet to see another car up there. The overlook has the most stunning view of the town far below, tucked into the mountains. The mountains that protect them, keep them safe from the unknowns of the outside world. Keep them together. Maybe he should not be so grateful of the mountains, though, since they also keep him trapped with Cartman. He shakes the negative thought away, refocusing on Stan. At their overlook, they venture out to a nearby rock that Kyle could swear was made for just the two of them to lounge on. Kyle keeps the package of Oreos in his lap so he doesn’t have to put them between the two, dividing the boys. They stay out until they finish the pack, or until neither can eat anymore. The winds up there always give Kyle an excuse to huddle close to Stan.

Kyle can’t muster a response, can only stupidly smile at the fact that he’s a worthwhile experience, so Stan continues. “We can go to Bebe’s parties, anyway. Don’t know what meaningful party experience we couldn’t get there but could get at the other parties.”

Since Elementary School, Bebe has been one of the main party throwers of their class. Cartman has been banned from them ever since sixth grade due to his never-ending misogynistic comments. Instead of getting more mature and learning with age, Cartman just got worse. Bebe, thankfully, was unwilling to take his monstrousness. She always was good at standing up for what she believes in.

“For one, Cartman has a pool. Plus, his mom gets so much alcohol for them! And she makes Jell-O shots! What other high school party has someone go through the effort of making Jell-O shots!”

“I said meaningful experiences. Besides, it’s rarely warm enough to swim outside and my favorite drink happens to be shitty beer.”

“Alright, you’re right,” Kyle concedes. “Her parties have better music than the others, anyway,” He knows Stan is being honest about him not needing the experiences with the others, but he still feels guilty.

Stan has experienced his fair share of abuse from Cartman, but Kyle knows a large part of his decision in entirely isolating from Cartman is because of him. Stan finally decided to fully stop interacting with Cartman one night when Kyle called him crying, asking him to come over. That day, Cartman had been especially cruel to Kyle.

They were in the seventh grade and Cartman waddled up to Kyle as he was pulling books from his locker. Stan was at home feeling sick, and Kyle had sat alone at lunch. It was lonely and humiliating, but Kyle couldn’t blame Stan. It was his own fault for having no one else to trust at that time.

“Hey, Kyle,” Cartman drawled. A devious smile was plastered across his face per usual.

“What do you want, Cartman,” Kyle replied, trying to show no emotion, ready to get this over with already. Cartman wasn’t as addicted to making Kyle miserable as he was when they were in Elementary School, but he still indulged in it when the opportunity arose. Without Stan, he was a lot more vulnerable. He hated feeling so dependent.

“Aw, don’t act so sad to see me,” Cartman had taunted, putting on his best pouty face. “We haven’t chatted in so long.”

Kyle hardened his glare, but it just seemed to egg Cartman on even more.

“Anyways, I saw you were all alone at lunch, hm? Rather sad. We all felt oh-so bad for you, Kyle. It’s really tragic you can barely function without your owner, Stan, there. The little puppy dog you are.”

Eric spoke with an unmoving smile on his face while Kyle struggled to maintain his cold glare. He felt like he was sinking. He rolled his eyes, trying not to indulge Cartman with a response.

Cartman’s expression briefly faltered at Kyle’s lack of response, but he continued. “Why is Stan home? You’re the weak little boy, not him. What, you confess your love to him finally and he can’t bear to look at you anymore? I don’t know why you thought your little gay childhood crush would ever be reciprocated.” Now, Cartman wore the smuggest smile Kyle had ever seen. He refused to let him wear it any longer.

Kyle lunged at Cartman and tore him up. He broke his nose and gave him two black eyes. He was lucky to only be suspended for a week. He likes to think the school administration understood what a monster Cartman is.

That night, Stan stayed the night despite being slightly under the weather. It was Monday and he had been sick over the weekend, so he was healing already, at least. 

Kyle didn’t tell him the whole truth about what happened. He just told him that Cartman had done his usual bullying and he truly reached his breaking point. Stan seemed to know not to push him for more details. This event was the final straw in Stan ever giving Cartman the time of day. Stan cared about him that much, and it meant everything to him. He always felt sort of guilty Stan completely isolated someone from his life over an event that he didn’t even know the whole truth about, but there was no way he could tell Stan the entire story. He tried to tell himself that all that mattered was Cartman had been his usual shitty self and pushed him enough to make him physically act on it.

Stan had helped distract Kyle from the scuffle every night that week. That became a common theme with them. They played video games until their eyes hurt, ate chips until they felt ill, talked about their lives until they ran out of things to say. It helped. Kyle hoped he could one day tell Stan all about what happened that day. Maybe. For now, Stan knows all he needs to know.

From that night on, Stan did not even give Cartman the pleasure of acknowledging his existence and hardly acknowledged those who still associated with him, just like Kyle. The gesture made Kyle fall for him even harder, somehow.

“Exactly,” Stan responds, bringing him back to the here and now. “I can still nearly puke on you after I have one too many drinks at Bebe’s parties. It’ll be great.”

Kyle insists on covering the bill and convinces Stan to let him by arguing it’s compensation for all the gas money he’s spending on them.

“You feeling any better?” Stan asks once they’re in his car, moving to turn the heat up.

“Hm,” Kyle sighs. “Of course. How could I not around you, dude.”

Stan’s head turns to face Kyle and the corner of his mouth quirks up, eyes sparkling. Maybe the sparkle is all in his head, though. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Kyle squeaks out, mortified he can’t even maintain his cool when he’s the one who skirted too close to the edge. When it’s Stan blindsiding him with a maybe-flirty-but-probably-him-overthinking-it compliment, he can maintain his composure at least half the time. But to not even be able to give out similar compliments? Pathetic.

“So,” Kyle says, swallowing hard. He tries his best to recollect himself. “Where are you taking us next?”

Stan has already pulled out of the parking lot and is driving down the road, even further from town.

“Stark’s Pond! Not many other places around here to go.”

“Yeah. You’d think living pretty isolated in the mountains we’d have more spots.”

“We do have our Oreo spot. That’s nice.”

“It is. But it looks out on the town. It’s pretty from that high up, but not as great as a view of, like, some endless fields or a pristine lake nestled between some mountains.”

Kyle frowns as he says this, hoping Stan won’t take it personally, it being their spot and all. Thankfully, Stan just continues on in agreement.

“True. Dude, we really need to do more exploring. We haven’t since we were kids, and we didn’t have cars then. Imagine what we could find now! There’s so much ground we can cover.”

“Hey, Jimbo probably knows a lot of this land pretty well. You could probably ask him for some cool places.”

“Ugh,” Stan says, dramatically throwing his head back. “I hate being around him. He talks too much.”

“Everyone in your family talks too much.”

“True.”

They arrive at Stark’s Pond and find it completely empty. Most kids around their age are at the party, younger kids are in bed, and the adults lead too boring of lives to stay up past 9.

Stan links his arm with Kyle’s, a habit they’ve picked up recently, and they head towards the pond. It’s not cold enough for it to be frozen over, but it is cold enough that their breath makes puffs in the air. A half-moon and mostly cloud-less sky full of stars gives them just enough light to make their way around.

They settle on the wooden bench after circling around the pond. Stan nestles close to Kyle, arms still linked. He’s grateful Stan isn’t too insecure to initiate closeness to him like this. He’s not sure he could himself, being too afraid of making his crush obvious. The last thing he wants to do is scare Stan off.

They sit in silence for a while, Kyle just enjoying Stan’s presence. Simply hearing the other boy’s slow breathing calms him. Helps soothe him from all his Cartman-related stress.

“Whatchu thinking about?” Stan gently asks. The softness of his voice makes Kyle feel like he’s melting. He knows Stan feels the same calm around them that must not be disturbed. A silent understanding. He tries to pretend that the fact they’re so often on the same wavelength means something.

“Y’know,” Kyle settles deeper into Stan’s side. “Here.”

Stan does a quick survey of the pond before he responds. “Me or the pond? Or South Park in general?”

He wishes he were daring enough to respond with “you.”

“I guess all of those things,” Kyle settles on. “I miss when we were kids and just had fun making fun of Cartman. I mean, he still tortured and traumatized us then, but it hadn’t all quite sunk in then. We were too young and resilient to really get it.”

“It’s hard growing older,” Stan says.

“Yeah. But you’re a good piece of my past I still have intact. It’s nice.”

“Kyle-“

“Really, just. Thanks, Stan,” Kyle says, trying not to get choked up. He’s fairly emotional today, so it’s a miracle he hasn’t teared up yet. He isn’t so sure Stan won’t, his eyes glimmering with tears threatening to spill over.

“It really means a lot that I can be here for you like this, dude. You deserve to be able to salvage something good like that, and I’m glad I can be the good you’re salvaging,” Stan speaks quietly and carefully, pulling away from Kyle so he can look at him without his face being shoved into his hair.

“It’s unbelievable how much shit we’ve been through together,” Kyle replies, meeting his gaze. They’re sharing a goofy smile that makes Kyle’s heart soar.

“It’s been an honor having so many shared traumas with you,” Stan says with a snicker.

“Jesus!” Kyle exclaims, resting his forehead on Stan’s shoulder as he laughs. “You joke but imagine having to deal with any of the shit from our childhood alone. And imagine explaining it to an outsider! They’d never get it.”

“I can’t even imagine trying to seriously talk about it with most people here. I’m pretty sure most of the others don’t even fully realize how messed up things were when we were growing up.”

“The fact that most still talk to Cartman confirms that,” Kyle can’t help but bitterly respond.

“Kyle,” Stan says, giving him a sad smile.

“It’s okay, I’m really okay!” he scrambles to reassure Stan. “I’m allowed to joke about trauma, too!”

“Alright,” Stan snickers. “Does this mean you’re ready to head back soon?”

“Are you eager to get rid of me?” Kyle teases.

“No! I figured we’d spend the night together, anyway. We can stay here longer if you want.”

It’s late, but not late enough for the party to have died down yet. Kyle thinks it would be best if they stayed out a little longer. He wishes he could have Stan take them exploring around South Park now, but it’s too dark for that. Maybe tomorrow.

“That’d be nice. Unless you’re too cold.”

“Nah, dude,” Stan replies, cuddling close against Kyle and resting his head on his shoulder. “I’m fine stealing your warmth.”

They both look up at the night sky covered in twinkling stars. Kyle can’t stop thinking about how Stan’s twinkling eyes look so much prettier. Still, he enjoys the sight and lets Stan’s presence along with the fresh mountain air envelop him in a healing calm.


End file.
